While You Were Sleeping
by kkbeatlesfan
Summary: On one Christmas Eve, Jon Stewart finds himself somehow stuck in the middle of a blizzard and is forced to stay at Stephen Colbert's house. Unexpected things happen as Stephen finds himself in a sticky situation he's never dealt with before. Jon/"Stephen", Daily Show/Colbert Report


**A/N: This story is loosely based on the song "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM" by Simon and Garfunkel, and a quote by Stephen Colbert in the September 2009 issue of ****_Rolling Stone._**

**Here's the quote: ****_"I dreamed last week that as a bit, my character holds up a liquor store. And it doesn't go well. I end up shooting someone twice." _**

**And a sample lyric from the song: ****_"Oh, what have I done? Why have I done it? I've committed a crime, I've broken the law. For 25 dollars in pieces of silver I held up and robbed a hard liquor store. Oh my life seems unreal, my crime and illusion, a scene I have written in which I must play, yet I know as I gaze at my young love beside me, the morning is just a few hours away."_**

**This is a Wifeless AU.**

Eight long buzzes of the doorbell at the monumental gates of a seemingly barren gated community, and still no goddamn answer. It sure didn't help that snow was hitting the ground seemingly in sheets and temperatures were beginning to fall as fast as the sinking sun as Jon stood there, rubbing his chilled hands together for warmth.  
"Come on, damn it," he mumbled as his warm breath swirled in front of him. He took a sigh of relief when a blurred face finally came on the security screen.  
"Please state your name and who you're here to see," a man grumbled into the speaker.  
"I'm Jon Stewart... I'm here to see Stephen Colbert."  
He could hear a few plunks of the keyboard over the crackly speakers before the man spoke again.  
"Okay. Go in, you're on the list."  
Jon watched as the enormous gates parted for him with a clang of metal-on-metal. His worn tennis shoes sloshed through the slushy snow on the walkway in front of him as he padded his way to the Colbert residence. He wouldn't be here right now if he hadn't insisted working just a little while longer, he thought. How was Stephen going to react to him showing up unannounced in the middle of a blizzard, wanting somewhere to crash for the night?  
You would be able to find Stephen's home from outer space if you needed to, because Christmas lights and decorations were everywhere. To Jon's unadjusted eyes, it nearly blinded him as he stepped along the cleared walkway to the front door, but he was glad to have made it that far. He reached out and rung the bell once, twice, three times until he saw Stephen peek out the front window with a suspicious look.  
"Stephen? It's just me... Jon," he yelled.  
It took another ring before his friend finally opened the door, but only part way on account of the secured deadbolt.  
"Jon? What are you doing here?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, his hand still secured on the doorknob just in case his best friend had suddenly transitioned into a cold-blooded killer.  
"I-I need somewhere to stay tonight. I can't get home in this weather."  
"I'm not going to let you in if you're high on drugs," he said sternly. Jon hoped he was kidding, but by his serious tone he knew he wasn't. All the while he could feel his fingers and face begin to numb with the beginnings of frostbite.  
"Come on, you know I don't take drugs..."  
"Then why are you out in a blizzard?!"  
"Because I stayed too late at the office."  
"Oh, 'the office', huh?" he mocked angrily, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers.  
"YES, Stephen! Will you please just let me in before my face fucking freezes?!"  
He shook his head in despair. "I know you're on drugs. You're angry, because you know I have a stash of cough medicine in my medicine cabinet..."  
"What? NO! I don't give a fuck about your damn drugs! I just want to get out of the cold!"  
Stephen looked down to find Jon's legs shivering under thin khaki pants. He did feel a moment of sympathy for him, and he did seem like he was telling the truth, but his trembling limbs could be a cause of meth withdrawal...  
"It's Christmas Eve... Why aren't you in church?" he asked finally, his eyes dark behind the glaring lenses of his glasses.  
"I'm Jewish... But why aren't you?" Jon snapped back.  
Stephen looked down as if he just remembered something, "Right..."  
He shut the door and Jon thought that he'd have to make his way all the way back home in the cold. He couldn't believe that his own best friend thought he was some kind of junkie. It was even worse to think that Stephen slammed the door in his face when he told him he was Jewish. He began his first few steps off of the porch before he heard the door creak open behind him again.  
"Jon?" he began, twinkling battery-powered lights in his red Christmas sweater blinking intermittently.  
He whirled around to meet Stephen's eyes, "What?!"  
"You can stay."  
Both men smiled as Jon trudged back up the steps and over the threshold into the glowing entryway. A small Christmas tree was perched in the corner, decked out with lights and ornaments, and garland was strung high up by the ceiling along the walls of the entire room.  
"I like what you've done with the place," Jon complemented as he removed his soaked boots.  
"Oh, thanks," Stephen replied, making sure that Jon wasn't stuffing his pockets with his belongings. "Let me show you to the living room."  
Jon was still shivering, for he was only wearing an overcoat for warmth and the snowflakes on his clothing were now melting from the roar of the bustling fireplace in the entryway to the spacious living room. Stephen offered him a seat on an easy chair in the corner, and he graciously accepted to rest his tired feet.  
"I'll go get you some hot cocoa," Stephen said flatly as he headed into the kitchen. Jon admired his collection of whimsical holiday decor as he sat in silence- small villages, Christmas trees, twinkling lights, Santa Clauses with glowing red cheeks-it was just like every large department store Jon had ever seen during the holiday season. Of course, the room wouldn't be complete without a few select items of Americana, including a ceramic eagle statue with complete outfits for each season. For December, he was dressed up as Santa, and he actually had been since November, because Jon figured that it wouldn't be acceptable if Stephen had to dress up America's mascot in a turkey suit. Stephen finally arrived back in the room with a steaming cup of cocoa in a mug shaped like an eagle head.  
"Here you go," he said sweetly as he handed it to the older man. The warm ceramic immediately warmed Jon's frozen fingers, and he slowly took a sip as Stephen sat down across from him and did the same.  
Stephen put the mug on an end table and stared at Jon for a moment.  
"What?" Jon asked mid-sip.  
"Oh, nothing. I've heard that nutmeg has some hallucinogenic properties, so if you want some of that to help you come down from your high..."  
"I'm not high!"  
"Sure, that's what you're telling me, but your _eyes_ are telling me a different story."  
Jon plucked a shiny silver ornament off of one of the many nearby trees, and Stephen took a dramatic indrawn breath.  
"You can't take that!" he scolded, making Jon jump.  
"Relax, I just want to see my reflection for a second!"  
Stephen slowly slumped back into his chair and watched his friend intently. He wasn't about to let him take anything. Jon stared into the glowing reflection at his red, bloodshot eyes.  
"I'm just tired," he shrugged, gently replacing the orb onto the tree, "I had to walk a long time just to get here."  
After a long sip of cocoa, Stephen just nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Stephen stared at the burning fire in the fireplace, seemingly in a trance. Jon then watched him as patterns of orange flames reflected in the lenses of his glasses. All of a sudden, the younger man shot the older man a horrified look.  
"What are you staring at?" he snapped.  
"Nothing!" Jon countered, quickly glancing away. Jon could feel Stephen's dark gaze settled upon him, and it unnerved him.  
"How long will you be staying?" Stephen finally decided to ask.  
"I told you, just for the night. Then I'm going home."  
"Home? That tiny little apartment of yours? Alone? On Christmas?"  
"Yes, Stephen... I don't..."  
"Why don't you just stay? I mean, I could use a little company..."  
Jon just sat in silence to think it over for a moment. Sure, all he really wanted to do was curl up in his own bed at home and get some well-needed rest, but was that twin-sized mattress in a little, dingy, one-room apartment really that special? Stephen had three guest rooms; all of them with a king-sized bed and a jacuzzi hot tub. He had no idea how he could afford it, but his friend's house seemed much more warm and accommodating.  
"I can stay," Jon almost whispered. It wasn't like he could have said no to Stephen anyway; he probably would have drugged him with chloroform while dreaming away in his comfy slumber.  
Stephen smiled. "Okay, I'll get the guest room ready for you."

Stephen paced himself as he bounded his way upstairs to one of the extra bedrooms. His hamstring still throbbed from dragging yet another Douglas fir up into the guest bathroom for decoration the day before, but it was a labor of love. It wasn't that he really loved the guests that would be using that room, but he sure enjoyed Christmas, and he wasn't about to let the Liberal agenda tell him that he couldn't have mini-Bethlehem all around his property.  
When he entered the room where Jon would be sleeping, he was met by the wafting of the scent machine that was filling the air with a Christmassy apples-and-cinnamon aroma. The sheets were all neatly pressed, and the room was very clean. All for good reason, though: no one other than Stephen had stayed at his house in three years. He had attempted to get his relatives to stay just for a night numerous times, but all of them were "Too far away" or "too busy." He felt totally alone in the world, and apparently Jon was too. They needed each other, he decided as he refilled the soap dish with a bar shaped like the American flag. They were destined by the blizzard to spend the holidays together. It wouldn't be long before all his sheet-ironing and soap dish-refilling would be broken apart by payment-past-due statements, eviction notices, and finally the day when he would have to find somewhere else to live. He hoped that his hospitality toward Jon would secure him a spot on his couch down the road if need be, but he would stop at nothing to come up with the money to pay the bills. Absolutely nothing.  
He had tried selling himself in the sex trade the week before, but things turned awkward when a man dressed as Santa showed up with a red kettle and a joyfully ringing bell just a mere ten feet away from him... All the "Ho, Ho, hos" in the world couldn't have made him feel any better, mostly because his "sexy and slimming" skinny jeans were really starting to chafe, and the see-through black fishnet shirt he was donning to allure customers was much too thin for chilly December weather. He went home without any takers, but yet instead returned with a bad cold.  
He had overextended his limits, just as he had done to his muscles when he had bought an entire home gym from one if those enticing TV infomercials. He couldn't just blame the totally jacked women and men on that late-night sales pitch for his economic woes, or even his throbbing thighs. His excessive Christmas decor had sent him into the negative zone this year, not as if he was ready to admit that yet. He was still going through the first stage of grief from when that bastard of a delivery man told him to pay up or he would be taking the gym back. He took the gym, even the sweaty towel they had thrown in for free, along with his dignity.

Stephen swallowed his pride and returned downstairs to find Jon still perched on the couch with his eyes closed.

_God, he's cute when he's asleep,_ he thought to himself as he hurriedly grabbed the now-empty mug from the table. Jon's eyes shot open again, staring right at him, and he felt his heart race.

"I-I set up the guest room for you," Stephen said nervously as he headed into the kitchen. He was gone before Jon could even reply. Finally alone again, Stephen set the mug down on the counter and wiped the newly-formed beads of sweat from his brow with a dampened dish rag. He hoped he wasn't coming down with something, because his face felt like it was on fire. Then he heard that voice creeping up behind him, making him whirl around and come face-to-face with Jon.

"Are you okay?" Jon asked, looking reasonably concerned, yet adorable as he leaned across the doorway.

Stephen nodded, "Y-yeah. I'm fine. I'm just cleaning up."

Jon smirked and stared into those deep, expressive eyes of the younger man before he finally looked away. There was something between them, both of them could feel it and knew it was slowly bubbling to the surface for years, but Jon knew that Stephen wasn't going to admit it easily. Then, Jon saw his chance: a sprig of mistletoe hanging above them from the ceiling. This was his time to move. He looked at the tiny green foliage then back at Stephen, then back to the mistletoe before his friend finally took notice.

"It looks like we're under the mistletoe… well, this is awkward," Stephen said quietly, almost in a whisper. He had said it once before… four years ago when by chance Jon found himself in Stephen's cabin out in the woods, but this time it was different. This time it felt as if Stephen _wanted _to kiss Jon, and savor every second of it. Jon sure wanted to kiss him, love him, and cherish him. He was in love.

The younger man closed his eyes as he felt the first touch of the older man's lips on his. It was warm, welcoming, and confident, and he had never in his life felt more energized. It was finally happening. He was able to admit his love for Jon Stewart. He was glad when the kiss didn't part, but instead the two men wrapped their arms around each other in a openhearted embrace until Jon pulled away and began to nuzzle Stephen's neck.

"That was… _amazing," _Stephen admitted under his breath.

_"You're amazing," _he heard Jon mumble as he softly kissed his neck again.

Finally, for once in their lives, they had someone to share the holidays with.

Somewhere in between the sheets of Stephen Colbert's king-sized bed laid he and Jon Stewart: by now half-naked and thoroughly drunk on spiked eggnog. The digital clock on the bedside table read that it was twenty-two minutes after midnight, though to the two of them it felt like everything had happened in a whirlwind. Jon was still fast asleep, but Stephen was wide awake, staring at the ceiling tiles that hovered above him.

_It's Christmas, _he thought, _I need to get Jon something!_

He had pondered this thought in his mind for at least the past ten minutes, even though some of that time was lost by he taking the time to notice how cute Jon was when he snored. He couldn't believe he had been so irresponsible with his money that now he couldn't even afford a present for his lover. He had never had anyone overly special in his life, and he couldn't bear losing Jon, too.

He decided to slide out of bed without waking the sleeping man beside him and go downstairs into the living room to think in peace. When he arrived in the living room, he found a trail of clothing leading down the hallway of he and Jon's. It made him smile.

Somewhere between downing a cup of coffee and getting dressed, Stephen came up with his plan. He dressed in all black: black slacks, a long-sleeved black shirt, and black leather gloves, and he stuffed a pistol down the front of his pants and covered it with the hem of his shirt. _He was going to rob the fucking liquor store to get some money._

Sure, he really had no well-thought-out plan, but he knew what he wanted to do: give Jon a nice breakfast in bed, and the paltry amount left in his savings account wouldn't cover much. He wanted this Christmas to be _special _and _unforgettable, _or whatever the rest of those bullshit adjectives used in commercial advertising were. He set out on foot after throwing on a coat and made his way down to the corner liquor store, right outside his gated community.

Only a few drunks littered the street outside of the Second Avenue Liquor Store, so Stephen figured he'd have a good chance of making it out without any witnesses. A bright neon sign shaped like a wine bottle glowed orange on the front of the old, dilapidated, brick building, and flickered off and on. The store was still open for business when Stephen burst through the front door calmly, noticing only one gruff-looking cashier behind the counter: a bald man that looked like he had just escaped from prison.

"Hi," Stephen said shyly as he made his way to the back of the store. The man just grumbled a response, not looking up from his magazine.

Making his way up the aisles, he passed numerous cases of beer, bottles of vodka, gin, and rum, and finally bottles of wine. Hey, he wasn't about to go home without the most expensive bottle to surprise Jon with, was he? He quickly grabbed the most expensive one that didn't come from a box and proceeded to head to the counter to begin the heist after slipping it covertly in his jacket. Grabbing a bottle of beer from the cooler, he smacked it against the hard marble counter to use as a weapon.

"Empty the register! Give me all the money!" he screamed with a touch of nervousness in his voice, threatening the man with the broken edge of the glass. The man wasn't going to take him seriously. He dropped his magazine and looked at him for the first time since he entered the building, no fear in his eyes at all.

"Get out now, you dirty _fuck," _he retorted through gritted teeth at Stephen, who suddenly remembered the pistol shoved down his pants. He drew the gun, and the cashier finally threw his hands up and took a step back.

"Give. Me. The. Fucking. Money." Stephen snapped, grabbing a brown paper sack from the counter and offering it to him to put the money in. He was still reluctant to let the five-foot-ten runt of a man hold up the place, but by the time he opened the register, Stephen was growing unsatisfied with his pace.

"Hurry up!"

"I am!" he replied angrily.

Stephen wasn't about to be pushed around by some angry jackass making minimum wage at the liquor store he just so happened to be robbing.

_BAM!_

One shot was fired by Stephen and the bullet planted itself in the man's right shoulder, making him yelp in pain.

"Goddamnit!" he screeched as he put the last fistfuls of cash in the bag. He handed the bag over to Stephen, who just realized that he was in deep shit now. He didn't want him to go running outside so someone could call the cops on him, either, so he gave him one final shot in the thigh before sprinting out the door, past the unsuspecting drunks.

"Hey!" one of the men called behind him, but he was already off. He ran and ran through the dark morning winter air back to his house to change clothes, and give Jon a Christmas present he wouldn't soon forget.

Stephen finally was able to catch his breath once he was back safely inside his gated community. Luckily he could just enter his security password at the gate for entry, so he wouldn't have to be seen by the security guards on the monitor. He trudged up the front steps, his boots now full of wet, packed snow, and he fumbled with his keys to open the lock. Once inside, he noticed that the house was completely silent, so he made his way upstairs to the bedroom to check on Jon.

Jon was still fast asleep when he arrived, and he sweetly tucked the blanket closer to his chin to keep his lover warm. He went to the closet and grabbed one of his countless suits, then headed into the attached bathroom to take a shower.

The hot, steamy water from the shower relaxed all of his tensed muscles that had sprung to life in the middle of the robbery. The warmth immediately took the chill from his skin that had been caused by the frigid conditions outside. He quickly got dressed and styled his hair perfectly before heading back into the living room where he had stashed his loot under the nearest couch cushion. He was on the edge of his seat as he counted every last dollar bill onto the coffee table in front of him, and he soon realized that it wasn't much. When all was said and done, he counted twenty-five dollars in cash, mostly in ones and change, hardly enough to buy Jon what he wanted to get him.

_Goddamnit! They must have emptied the register last night! _Stephen thought. He pushed himself back onto the couch and closed his eyes, feeling the development of a headache. What could he buy Jon now?

After a few minutes of thought, he decided to turn on some mind-numbing television to hopefully help him forget the whole mess, and to possibly give him some ideas. Immediately as he turned on the TV, it hit him: The Hobbit breakfast from Denny's! It was a genius plan… he already had the bottle of expensive wine, so what could some cheap, fried food hurt? It did look sort of delicious… and how could he resist something _Lord of the Rings _themed? It was the only place that was open at this time of night, after all.

Stephen threw on his coat and made it out the door with the cash in hand, and he made his way to the nearest Denny's, which was about nine blocks away. Luckily, he didn't have to pass the liquor store again, because he just couldn't bear to see the wreckage he'd caused. He didn't mean to hurt they guy, after all…

Soon enough, it was close to three AM and Stephen arrived back home with two bags of _Hobbit_ breakfasts for he and Jon, and a ridiculously proud grin on his face. He had done it: he had found the perfect gift. He grabbed the bottle of wine and bounded up the stairs to see that Jon was nearly awake.

"Jon! Jon! Merry Christmas!" he yelled as he bounded into bed beside the older man, dropping the bag filled with fried hash browns and eggs beside him.

"What?" Jon replied drowsily, wiping his tired eyes as he slowly sat up.

"I bought breakfast!"

"Oh!" Jon said, completely surprised as he watched Stephen pour him a glass of wine. He handed it to him, making sure not to spill a drop on the high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, and they both smiled.

"To us," Stephen began, lifting his own glass to meet Jon's. "Forever."

"To us… forever," Jon repeated before sneaking in a final kiss on the lips.

_I should really celebrate Christmas more often, _he thought.

**A/N: So, did you enjoy it? It was just a totally odd idea that I had, so I hope it materialized into an understandable-yet-totally-random story. Please review, and Happy Holidays! :D**

**P.S.: So, want to hear ****_another _****fic idea? ****_Mama Tussy's House of Man Candles, _****is what it would be called, and it would be this weird ****_Night At the Museum-_****esque fic about how Stephen gets trapped in Madame Tussaud's wax museum overnight, and everything comes to life… I have no idea where this stuff comes from in my mind. But anyway, his little tour of the museum on the ****_Report _****a little while ago got me thinking… especially when they looked at the Yoko Ono sculpture and he says, "Did you used to have the Beatles here, until she showed up and they all left?" Awesomeness. :D**


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